The Kingdom's Rich Tapestry II
by LadyHeatherlly
Summary: This is a collection of short drabbles I've submitted for our weekly challenges over at The Heart of Camelot, featuring a variety of genres, characters, pairings and ratings.
1. In the Beginning

**My contribution to our first drabble challenge:** "**In the Beginning**"  
_Share a childhood memory from the perspective of any character you choose._

**Category:** Gen (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Merlin, Hunith  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** UNKNOWN

* * *

There was a certain look that would come into his mother's eyes at times - distant, wistful, as if she'd just awoken from some blissful dream into the stark reality of a frigid winter morning. She didn't wear that expression often, certainly not when she was aware that her young son was watching her. Nonetheless, it was a look he came to know well over the years, one that he even began to understand as he grew from a small child into some sort of awkward facsimile of the man he was destined to become.

That was the look she wore when she thought of his father.

Sometimes her expression was peaceful, imbued with traces of quiet joy. On other occasions, her unspoken feelings would make themselves known in a sorrow she did her best to conceal from his notice, marked by a droop in her shoulders and the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. And sometimes... not often, but sometimes, she'd seem almost angry as she stared beyond him into a past that he'd never asked her about directly for fear of causing her further grief.

So many unanswered questions... why had his father left them? Perhaps he'd never know, and after all, did it really matter? For his mother's eyes were always there to answer the most important question of all. It was impossible to deny that his father had been a good man, if nothing more than a distant memory was enough to evoke an expression of tenderness on her face that was normally reserved for her son alone.

Yes, no matter what had happened to take his father away, it was abundantly clear that his mother had loved and been truly loved in return.

For Merlin, that was enough.


	2. Prelude to Darkness

**My contribution to our second drabble challenge:** "**Prelude to Darkness**"  
_Write about a positive experience Uther might've had with magic before Arthur was conceived._

**Category:** Gen (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Uther/Ygraine, Nimueh  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 300

* * *

The heavy doors burst open, jarring a pair of drowsy guards back to full attention as the slight figure rushed into the council chamber. "Sire, I was told it was a matter of dire importance," she gasped upon reaching the enthroned figure who'd watched her approach with curiously placid eyes.

"Ah, Nimueh," the king smiled, gesturing to one of the ornate chairs beside him. "Join me."

"Uther, what is it? What's wrong?"

He frowned in confusion as she dropped wearily into the closest seat. "Wrong? Nothing. Ygraine's birthday is two days away and I've no adequate gift to give her. She has a king's ransom in jewels already, fine clothes and countless fripperies… she must have something special this year. Something beautiful…"

Nimueh stared at him, aghast. "You sent me an urgent summons so that we might discuss a _birthday gift?_"

"Something magical, a gift she'll never forget. Can you come up with something?"

Hot anger flared inside her as she thought of the thrice cursed, possibly dying child whose care she'd had no choice but to entrust to barely tested initiates in order to respond to her "urgent" royal summons. Dire importance indeed… did Uther honestly think she had nothing better to do than await his beck and call like some hapless servant?

_Obviously, he does,_ she thought, never aware of the humorless smile that Uther mistook for assent as he reached over and patted her hand – such a tiny, but affectionate gesture that had always warmed her heart in the past. And although she was forced to swallow an uncomfortable twinge of shame for failing to call him out on his selfishness, refusing a friend simply wasn't an option in her world.

"It would be my pleasure, sire."


	3. Uncharted Territory

**My contribution to our third drabble challenge:** "**Uncharted Territory**"  
_Choose a character, pairing, genre or trope you've never written before and explore it!_

**Category:** Slash (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Merlin/Mordred  
**Rating/Warnings:** T  
**Word Count:** 300  
**Author's Note:** I haven't written much slash in this fandom, but if I ever do, I'm pretty sure it'll be about this pair. I love them together.

* * *

Mordred understood the strange light in Merlin's eyes only too well, though it was so subtle that any casual observer would never notice the difference. The residue of magic still glittered within those that seemingly ordinary blue irises, making them a shade brighter, just a touch more fierce than they would have been on any other day. Yes, it took a fellow sorcerer to recognize that particular look and identify its cause… the overflow of energy that remained behind for hours, sometimes even days, in the aftermath of channeling a great deal of power through one's body.

Few magic users could last long without an outlet for such an extreme feeling of restlessness, which begged the question as to why Merlin was simply sitting there staring out into the darkness. More than that, he'd no doubt endured this feeling dozens of times throughout his years of service to Arthur. How did he manage to find any relief? It wasn't as if he could commit a random act of violence like some rogue sorcerer, or had many opportunities to couple with a willing person as was common amongst the Druids. How did he not go _insane_?!

And then all thought fell to the wayside as Merlin met his eyes from across the campfire. There was wariness in that stare, of course, a deep distrust Mordred had begun to despise more fiercely with each passing day. But there was something else within those depths, too… something that would never be acknowledged aloud and yet wouldn't be refused if offered. And at least for now, that _something_ was more powerful than all the suspicion in the world.

Mordred rose to his feet and stepped away into the shadows, smiling to himself as he listened to the tread of quiet footsteps behind him.


	4. Knocking Is Overrated

**My contribution to our fourth drabble challenge:** "**Knocking Is Overrated**"  
_Write about one character catching another in an awkward or potentially embarrassing situation._

**Category:** Gen (Canon AU)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Merlin, Arthur  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 300

* * *

The king gave no thought to his actions as he flung the door open with an irritated bellow of, "Merlin!"

A sharp gasp ricocheted off the chamber walls. Visibly trembling, the figure on the bed curled protectively around the object he was holding, then raised a pair of horrified eyes to meet those of the man he served. It was only a momentary thing, that flash of terror, only the span of a heartbeat before muscles rigid with tension abruptly relaxed. And then Merlin laughed, a hollow, self-conscious sound that tugged at Arthur's heartstrings rather than setting him at ease as was clearly the intention.

"It's all right, Merlin," he said softly, trying to ignore the wary look that was cast his way as the book of spells was placed gently on the table.

Would it always be like this? It had been almost a year since he'd discovered the truth, nearly that long since the ban on magic had been lifted. Sorcerers with no ill intent were now allowed to practice freely within the kingdom of Camelot, and yet…

… and yet the fear never faded. It was there in the cautious movements of the Druids, who stayed just long enough to gather supplies before leaving as quietly as they'd come. It remained in the old apothecary, who still hesitated before offering his most effective remedies. Most of all, that fear was in this man, loyal servant and friend, the last person in the kingdom who should have any reason to doubt his word.

Arthur let out a resigned sigh and turned to go, resolved to be patient and allow wounds to heal in their own time. "Merlin?" he called back over his shoulder.

"Sire?"

"Speeches don't just write themselves, you know."


	5. Shades of Gray

**My contribution to our fifth drabble challenge:** "**Shades of Gray**"  
_Choose a character that is considered "evil" on the show and give them a redeeming quality._

**Category:** Gen (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Myror  
**Rating/Warnings:** K+  
**Word Count:** 300

* * *

A man didn't have to enjoy a job to be good at it. All he needed was a reason, a purpose, something driving him forward that wouldn't allow for the possibility of failure. That was how a simple farmer became the most feared assassin in five kingdoms.

Had circumstances been different, he could've happily spent his life doing nothing more than tending his crops and raising his children, then resting in the shade when life's final season crept into his tired old bones. Yes, Myror could've been content with such a life, without a trace of doubt that he'd made the right choice.

But such things were not to be. He realized that unfortunate truth when his young wife fell ill, and he could find no remedy with which to save her. A witch's curse, they said as he wept beside her funeral pyre, though he'd never know the reason behind such cruelty.

She was the first to die by his hand, the wretched crone who'd rained down her hatred upon the woman he loved. But how could she be the last, when his only child became crippled with the same affliction, and the promise of salvation came upon the final breaths he choked from that wizened old body?

"Worth a fortune, and all for naught if it's not administered upon the night of each new moon." And then she cackled, a final rally just before the death rattle. "No hope for one such as you, unless you're hiding a king's ransom in that filthy hovel of yours."

No, a man didn't have to enjoy a job to be good at it. All that mattered was that it paid more gold in a day than he'd ever thought to see in a lifetime.


	6. An Honest Confession

**My contribution to our sixth drabble challenge:** "**An Honest Confession**"  
_Have one character admit a previously hidden truth to another in a way that never happened on the show._

**Category:** Gen (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Lancelot, Arthur, Merlin  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 300  
**Author's Note:** Set during episode 1x05.

* * *

"Nice work, Lancelot."

The young recruit glanced at the pristine stalls around him, feeling a flash of pride that was immediately overcome by a deep sense of shame. True, the stable was spotless, but most of the filth had ended up on his own clothing… garments so fine he hadn't had any business wearing them in the first place.

It was no way to present himself to a prince… and yet being discovered like this, humble, dirty, and exhausted after a day's work, felt more right to Lancelot than all the things he'd done to ingratiate himself to Arthur since coming to Camelot. This was who he truly was, after all, a simple commoner who knew a great deal about manual labor and far too little about titles, wealth, and proper bloodlines. This was his reality, a truth that couldn't be denied by a stolen seal and a fine tabard.

What had he been thinking when he'd agreed to this deception? If everything he wanted came to pass and he was awarded the knighthood he'd dreamed of, how could he bring himself to accept all the privilege he'd surely be given, all the while knowing it was based on a lie? Worse, what if the truth were ever revealed? How could he live with himself if those who'd helped him were discover and punished for their part in his crimes?

No… a knighthood might yet be in his future, but not like this. Not if it meant having to defy everything that word was supposed to symbolize in the first place – honor, justice… truth.

Knowing what he had to do, Lancelot swallowed hard and raised his eyes to meet Arthur's surprisingly gentle blue gaze.

"Sire, I have a confession to make."


	7. Continuation

**My contribution to our seventh drabble challenge:** "**Continuation**"  
_Choose one character (other than Arthur) who was killed on the show and write about their potential involvement (if they'd lived) in an episode that occurred after their death._

**Category:** Gen (Canon AU)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Arthur, Merlin, Will  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 350

* * *

"He broke the law, Merlin. There's nothing I can do."

"He saved your _life_!"

Arthur's face was impassive, his jaw rigid and unyielding as he stared out over the gathered crowd. He bore an uncanny resemblance to his father in that moment, but with one glaring exception – there was no hiding the guilt, the compassion, even something that looked a lot like remorse in the depths of his troubled eyes.

"Please, Arthur. I–"

"He shouldn't have survived in the first place," the prince interrupted flatly. "Any other man would've been dead in minutes – you know that as well as I do. He healed himself with magic, didn't he? And if he can do that, who knows–?"

"He's my friend."

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I'm willing to pardon you for not telling me the truth, but I cannot do the same for him. He knew the risk he was taking, and…"

But Merlin wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy staring in horror at the frightened young man who was being lashed to the pyre just a few yards away.

"…the consequences of his actions. Sorcery is strictly forbidden."

The executioner was moving closer, flaming torch held aloft as the crowd shouted and jeered their encouragement. Closer, closer… the prisoner was weeping openly now, but he didn't beg for mercy, nor did he confess the one secret that would've saved him from such a terrible fate. _Closer…_

"This has to stop," Merlin said abruptly.

"Merlin, I can't–"

"He's not the sorcerer, Arthur. I am."

"I know what you're trying to do, but–"

But Merlin was already moving forward, with an incantation on his lips that grew louder with every word he spoke. A dense fog suddenly spread throughout the courtyard, so thick and opaque that it was only penetrated by the terrified screams of the bewildered crowd. And then just like that, it was gone.

"_Seize them!_" King Uther bellowed from the balcony above.

But it was too late. Merlin and Will had disappeared.


	8. Claiming Kin

**My contribution to our eighth drabble challenge:** "**Claiming Kin**"  
_Invent a previously unknown family member for one of the knights and write a drabble about that character._

**Category:** Gen (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Leon  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 300

* * *

"Your father left to fight in Uther's wars and never returned. I couldn't bear to lose you as well."

"Mother…" the gangly youth crossed the chamber and knelt beside his mother's chair, clasping one of her warm little hands in his own. Everyone said he looked like her, with the same soft hazel eyes and honey colored curls. Hers were turning gray now, and yet she was no less beautiful than she'd been in her younger years. Even the lines on her face couldn't detract from that, not when they were the natural result of decades filled with loving smiles and gentle laughter, endless worry and the deepest sorrow. She looked so fragile sitting there beside the fire – how could he bring himself to leave her?

"I know," she interrupted softly when he opened his mouth to speak again. "I know this is something you must do, and I will not attempt to convince you otherwise. Just please…"

"I'll be careful, Mother."

She shook her head. "That isn't enough. Here, take this."

The object she pressed into his hand was small and round, seeming to vibrate with some restless energy as he held it up for closer inspection. It was a medallion of sorts, a simple disk of silver with what appeared to be a hawthorn tree etched in the center. "A talisman? Mother, you know if I'm found with something like this…"

"Then be sure it's never discovered, because I refuse to send you off to be a soldier without it. It might very well save your life one day."

Leon smiled. "Our secret?" he said almost playfully, and they both knew he was referring to much more than the charm that was dangling from his fingers.

"Our secret."


	9. Off on Vacation

**My contribution to our ninth drabble challenge:** "**Off on Vacation**"  
_Write a canon era drabble in which one of the characters takes a holiday from Camelot. Where do they go and what do they do?_

**Category:** Gen (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Gwen, Hunith, Mary (character from 4x08 "Lamia")  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 300

* * *

"Your highness," the stout woman proclaimed, dropping into an awkward curtsy that had her wobbling back and forth with the effort not to topple over. "To what do I owe this honor?"

Gwen's cheeks turned red as she tried to ignore the curious stares of the other villagers. "Oh, stop it, Mary," she muttered under her breath. "Please. I'm only Gwen, just as you've always known me. I don't need any special treatment. Really, I don't."

"But you're queen now!" Mary blinked up at her owlishly. "Wouldn't be right not to show proper respect."

"Even if I command it?"

Mary paused at that, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I… I don't know, your highness."

Gwen sighed. It had taken quite a bit of maneuvering to have a week to herself, and she'd already wasted three days on this sort of nonsense. First there had been the former scullery maid, once one of her closest friends, who'd refused to let her inside because her home "wasn't fit for royalty." And then there'd been the fruit merchant, an effusive little woman who'd once been her favorite source for idle gossip, who wouldn't stop asking questions about the cost of her gown and whether or not she slept on silken sheets.

Where were all her old friends? Why couldn't anyone treat her as they had before she'd married Arthur?

But then as Mary babbled on about appropriate protocol and how wonderful it must be to live in a palace, Gwen suddenly knew exactly what she needed. Ealdor. Yes, it was definitely time to pay Merlin's mother a visit.

By the following night, she was dressed in one of Hunith's stained old aprons, scrubbing pots and chopping carrots as she smiled to herself in contentment.


	10. Thwarting Destiny

**My contribution to our tenth drabble challenge:** "**Thwarting Destiny**"  
_Share an experience that might have happened in Merlin's life if he and Arthur had never met._

**Category:** Gen (Canon AU)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Merlin, Druids  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 380  
**Author's Note:** I went over my limit again. Oh well. :)  
In case it isn't obvious, this is set during the first episode. Merlin witnesses the execution and decides he'd rather not stick around.

* * *

_Th-thud…_

The somber cadence of drums still echoed in his head long after he'd fled the city, beating in time with his racing heart as he ran blindly through the trees.

_Th-thud… Th-thud…_

It was a sound he'd never forget, for it existed in all the terrible things he'd witnessed that day. The king with the ice cold stare, that awful finality in his voice when he passed sentence… and then the proclamation that struck with the force of a hammer hitting an anvil.

"Such practices are banned on penalty of death."

**Thud!**

It resonated again throughout the courtyard, a sickening crunch as metal sliced through flesh before the man's head hit the ground, staring out at the gaping crowd through sightless eyes.

Thud.

Merlin had gone to Camelot with the highest hopes, filled with grand visions of a life he'd only read about in storybooks. It was for his own safety, his mother had said, but he hadn't thought too much about the time. He'd just agreed to keep certain things to himself – no big deal, right?

Wrong.

Knowing sorcery was frowned upon was one thing – finding out that anything that even hinted at magic was worthy of a death sentence was quite another. He could only assume his mother hadn't understood either – otherwise, why had she sent him there, entrusting his protection to one frail old man?

Too exhausted to continue, he stopped in a secluded cove, managing to kindle a tiny fire that did nothing to penetrate the chilly fog that had descended over the forest. Instinct rather than conscious thought had him staring into the flames, willing them to burn bigger, brighter, warmer…

That was how they found him, slipping silently from the trees to form a circle around the clearing. Maybe he should've been afraid, but somehow, he couldn't quite manage it. No, fear was to be found in the awful thudding of drums, in the merciless eyes of a tyrant passing the same sentence upon the innocent and guilty alike. It wasn't here in this place, where only the most gentle voices spoke to him from the darkness.

"Is there anything we can do to help you?"


	11. Crossing Paths

**My contribution to our 11th drabble challenge:** "**Crossing Paths**"  
_Write about an encounter between two characters who never actually met on the show._

**Category:** Gen (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Gwaine, Lady Vivian  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 345

* * *

"A love spell?" Gwaine shot Merlin a skeptical glance before returning his attention to the the courtyard below. "I'm not so sure about that."

Merlin shrugged. "It must have worn off. Most of them do sooner or later… at least, that's what I've heard."

Vivian's shrill voice grew louder, floating up to the window as she continued her tirade. "… also require a personal escort and no less than three attendants at all times. _Good_ servants, Arthur, not that lazy…"

"Guinevere is queen now," Arthur interrupted firmly.

"So? That still doesn't mean I want her waiting on me."

For a moment, it appeared as if the king might come back with a suitable response; instead, he just took Vivian's arm and escorted her up the steps.

"Why does he put up with it?" Gwaine said, shaking his head as he fought to control his laughter.

"Her father is an important ally. Also… well, you know how he is."

"Only rude to his friends?" He grinned as Merlin tried to hide a smirk. "Right, well, tell him I'd like to volunteer my services as her escort."

"What?!"

* * *

Gwaine patiently withstood Vivian's inspection, never realizing that he was preening just a little under the scrutiny of the admittedly beautiful woman. Finally, she stepped back and let out a delicate snort.

"Well, I suppose it could've been worse. At least he didn't send me someone like that Elliot," she paused and gave a visible shudder. "That one obviously only has the job he does because he's the Queen's brother, and I don't know about you, but I find him very strange."

"Elyan."

"Who cares? Anyway, I do hope you're planning on shaving your beard before the feast tonight. And I must insist that you find something to wear besides that hideous chain mail. Oh, and…"

"No."

Vivian looked at him, stunned. "Pardon me?"

"No," he repeated, giving her his best charming smile.

It was going to be an interesting week.


	12. Fine Tuning

**My contribution to our 12th drabble challenge:** "**Fine Tuning**"  
_Choose one of your least favorite episodes, then use your drabble to provide a synopsis for an episode to replace it._

**Category:** Gen (Canon AU)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Morgana, Morgause  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 313  
**Author's Note:** Episode 3x03 "The Old Ways" (replacement for "Goblin's Gold")

* * *

"The voices of the fallen are crying out for vengeance, Sister," Morgause whispers as she kneels at Morgana's bedside. "Can you hear their call? It is louder in this place than any other, for this was once their sacred home. Now it is ours."

Morgana looks up at her uncertainly, and it's obvious that she's still recovering from Merlin's attempt to poison her. She's thin, pale, and her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches for the other woman's hand. A lone candle lights the ancient ruins; ivy hangs from archways and casts eerie shadows across what appears to be an altar of sorts.

"I... I don't have your powers. I... I hear nothing."

Morgause's lips slowly curve into a smile. "Oh, but you will soon enough. It is in your blood. My blood. Mordred's blood."

Morgana looks surprised. "The Druid boy? You know him?"

"Oh yes," Morgause lets out a sudden laugh. "You might say that."

The scene shifts, and we're given a deeper look into various events that took place during Morgana's year away from Camelot. She is teetering on the brink, obviously torn between the person she once was and who she's yet to become, a vulnerability Morgause uses to her full advantage as she begins Morgana's instruction in the ways of the ancient priestesses.

"This is our birthright, Sister, a path we must accept whether we might wish it otherwise or not. We are the protectors, the defenders, the mothers who must ensure the continuation of our kind. For everything we were and might yet be again, we have no choice but to strike at the very heart of all who oppose us. So I must ask you now – are you ready?"

The screen goes black at the end of the episode, and completely silent beyond two words:

"I'm ready."


	13. The Cup of Life

**My contribution to our 13th drabble challenge:** "**The Cup of Life**"  
_Come up with an idea as to what might have happened to the Cup of Life following its disappearance at the end of Series 3. You can simply locate it and explain how it got there, or you can have a particular character (original or canon or even historical) making use of it at some future time._

**Category:** Gen (Canon AU)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Merlin, Lancelot  
**Rating/Warnings:** K  
**Word Count:** 363  
**Author's Note:** Still not over the travesty of 4x09. Nope.

* * *

Merlin carefully arranged the last of the cut flowers around the body of his fallen friend, then paused to touch the cold, still face with gentle fingers. If there was one thing to be grateful for in the midst of such tragedy, it was that Arthur had at least permitted Lancelot to be given a decent burial.

Well, not exactly. "Take care of it, Merlin," was what he'd said brusquely, effectively washing his hands of a reality that was simply too difficult to bear. Merlin couldn't blame him, really. How could one reconcile the most loyal of knights with the coldhearted betrayer who had returned in his place?

Still, the worst part was that none of the others had even suspected something was wrong, that they'd so easily mistaken such a pale imitation for the Lancelot they all remembered.

"And now they'll never know the truth," he whispered sadly to his unresponsive companion.

Having already endured the grief process the first time around, Merlin had eventually come to terms with the idea that his friend was lost to him forever. If nothing else, he'd had the comfort of knowing that Lancelot had left behind a fitting legacy to a life that had only ever been lived with honor. But this… to be remembered as a traitorous coward for crimes he'd never even committed?

"No…"

He'd already memorized the words that would free Lancelot's true spirit, bringing him back to himself for a few precious moments before the former knight succumbed to death once more. But it wasn't enough… Merlin, and indeed the entire kingdom, owed him so much more than that.

It was then he remembered the golden cup hidden deep in the catacombs of the Citadel, placed there immediately following the battle in which it might very well have been used to destroy all their lives. If not for Lancelot's bravery, his faith and loyalty in standing beside Merlin when all seemed lost…

"Drink," he commanded urgently just a few minutes later, pressing the cup to Lancelot's lips as the tiny flicker of life in his eyes rapidly began to wane. "Drink…"


End file.
